


petals red as blood

by peachsneakers



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst and Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Prinxiety - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 11:30:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20242147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachsneakers/pseuds/peachsneakers
Summary: It figures this would happen to Roman.





	petals red as blood

Roman coughs surreptitiously into a crumpled kleenex, wincing at the bloom of red that stained the tissue. A purplish-red flower petal slides lazily across the kleenex, nearly falling to the floor before he catches it. No one can find bloody flower petals lying around the mind palace, after all. He can't bear that.

It's so silly. Thomas learned about Hanahaki Disease while browsing _fanfiction,_ for god's sake (and wasn't that subject enough to make a sailor blush, there were some _filthy_ stories out there). You wouldn't think a fictional disease would be able to do anything, but Roman underestimated the effect of the imagination, especially on himself.

He doesn't know if anyone else is pining, but his unrequited love is there, sharing the same mind palace. His emo storm cloud, hiding in purple patched hoodies and sitting on the counters. His smile is rare, but that's the very thing that makes Roman's heart swell.

Pain clenches his lungs and a series of harsh, rattling coughs leave him doubled over, petals filling his mouth. That's not good, he realizes dimly. At least he's in his room. He doesn't have to clean up yet if he doesn't want to. His throat hurts so much, like it's been scraped raw.

He's in love with _Virgil_ and he has no idea what the other side feels. However, based on their previous animosity (something he finds himself regretting more and more with each passing day and not just because of his looming demise), it can't be anything more than grudging friendliness, if not veiled animosity. And he knows he deserves it. He said some awful things to Virgil, things he never should have said.

He wishes he could take it all back. He wishes he could hold Virgil, feel Virgil's head droop against his chest, plant tiny kisses in the soft fluff of Virgil's purple-dyed hair. They could watch Disney movies all night and critique them after, the good and the bad. They could share popcorn and let their hands 'accidentally' touch once or twice, brushing against each other and setting every nerve on fire. They could kiss. He wonders how Virgil kisses. If it's hot and raw and tumultuous or sweet and timid and soft. Would he bury his hands in Roman's hair, would he cup Roman's jawline?

"Stop it," he orders himself rawly, spitting out another flower petal. The edges are slick with blood. "You need to tell someone. Logan. Someone to cut it out of you." But how can that work? He won't be himself- without the ability to love- without _passion_-

What _is_ he?

Creativity, yes, of course, but bland, insipid, without the passionate furor in his veins, driving him onward. He _needs_ his passion, he _needs_ love, but without Virgil, he'll-

His mind shies away from the thought. What will Thomas do without his creativity? Remus exists certainly, but _he_ can't-

Roman coughs harder, nearly falling off the bed. His coughing rings in his ears so loudly, he doesn't hear the rap on the door, or the creak of the door opening as someone proffers the invitation to dinner.

"Roman, oh my god," Virgil babbles, and Roman freezes, his skin icy and burning by turns, because Virgil is _right there_, but that means he can see, he _knows_, and the light of comprehension is bright in Virgil's eyes.

"Oh, Roman," Virgil whispers, and Roman hunches in on himself, trying to pretend that his shirt's not bloodstained, and flower petals don't surround him like the beginnings of a shroud. "Who?"

He could lie. He knows he could. But Virgil will just go and fetch them, or Deceit will pop up and demand he tell the truth, so in the end, Roman opens his mouth and says the hardest word he's ever uttered in his life.

"You," he says, and closes his eyes, unwilling to see the pained rejection on Virgil's face.

"But Roman," Virgil says softly, and when Roman opens his eyes, Virgil is closer, much too close, and there are tears trembling in his eyelashes, caught like miniature diamonds. "Who says it's unrequited?"

Their lips meet and Roman pours everything he has into the kiss.

When they pull apart, Roman feels lighter than he has in a long time and Virgil's eyes are shining.

The petals littering the floor vanish like they never were.


End file.
